


glamour

by doctormissy



Series: What if...? [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 9 Days Christmas Writing Challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Domestic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: The Doctor is decorating the TARDIS, and Missy doesn't like it.





	glamour

**Author's Note:**

> so christmas is here again, and so are my fics. sorry for disappearing, but i was too busy to write. i hope you understand – and enjoy this short piece :)

 

She rolled onto her side. Her hand fell ungraciously on a soft, warm, yet empty pillow. That brought her attention. The Doctor seldom got up early.

She let out a sound that was hardly ladylike. A Time Lady she was, but not a happy one. She felt like yelling at him. She did. ‘ _Doctor!_ ’ Her voice was hoarse from hours and hours of sleep. ‘ _Doctor!_ ’ she yelled again. Little did it help.

She was forced to leave the warm comfort of her (their) bed. What was the old piece of seaweed up to? She threw a lilac dressing gown over her nightie and put on a pair of shoes. She would not wander through the TARDIS’ corridors barefoot; the floor was cold. The door opened automatically for her.

She was halfway through the way to the console room when she heard his grumpy voice. There was some swearing involved, and objects falling on the ground.

‘What on Gallifrey are you doing in there, Doctor?’ she called. Her pace quickened. The gown flew around her like a cape in the wind. Her long hair was messy.

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ he replied. ‘Decorating! Rather unsuccessfully, might I add.’

She stepped into the room––and saw the disaster. In one corner of the console room stood a tall, thin spruce bedecked with orange tinsel and a dozen old cogwheels, under which a pile of needles begged to be carried round the TARDIS on shoe soles. The console was wrapped in red and yellow light chains, all the way up to the rotors, and the Doctor stood on a step-ladder, trying to untangle a bunch of blue and green lights and a plastic tinsel imitating fir branches so he could hang them on the rails (or gods knew where). There were some mistletoe and a box of pink baubles, too. She wanted to crush them.

He frowned at his lights. She frowned at him. ‘Why?’

‘Missy, it’s Christmas!’ he answered as if that explained everything. There was a smile in his tone, but it didn’t reach his face.

‘So? Last time I checked Time Lords didn’t celebrate Earth holidays.’

‘But it’s nice, isn’t it? What do you say, hmm?’ His eyes followed the room. He really seemed to like the poorly decorated tree. ‘Adds a bit of glamour to all the metal.’ He returned to his tangled bunch, and her immediate thought was to push him off the step-ladder.

‘Doctor, you aren’t being serious if you think I’ll let you cover the TARDIS in this,’ she spun around, pointing at all the Christmas decorations, ‘horrible kitschy mess. No, it doesn’t add _glamour_ to the metal. It will always be metal. Now, get down before I throw you off the thing.’

‘Why do you have to be so negative, Missy? This is fun!’ He finally freed the green tinsel. Well, almost. ‘Damn this thing!’

‘I’d hate to shock your grace, but my definition of fun involves fewer shiny plastic trinkets and more plans on controlling the universe.’ She waltzed to the ladder and leant against it, one hand wrapped around the Doctor’s ankle and the other playing with her mouth. She flashed her dark long eyelashes at him.

He dropped the tinsel on the floor with a relieved sigh. ‘Come on, Missy, when was the last time we did something like this together? Take this and put it over there,’ he pointed vaguely at the stairs.

‘Never, and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much.’ She kicked at the chain. ‘I think I’ll go grab some pizza for breakfast. Want some? Wait... I’m not giving you any.’ She gave the step-ladder a slight push, enough to unsettle him. ‘I might set that hideous conifer on fire, while I’m at it. It would look good with the orange.’

‘Do you have something against orange?’ the Doctor raised his thick eyebrows, oblivious to her words. She turned to go to the kitchen, but his question stopped her.

‘Our entire planet is orange. I’ve seen enough of it for several lifetimes. Purple would match the pink balls better,’ she suggested. ‘Not that it matters when it’ll burn to ashes anyway.’

His hands stopped working. Were the chain and the tinsel a conundrum too difficult for him to solve, and did he finally give up? ‘What’s rule number fourteen?’ He climbed down the step-ladder.

The corners of her mouth dropped in a disappointed grimace. ‘No fire on the TARDIS,’ she said. 

‘And do you know what that means?’ he asked her as if she was ten.

‘I won’t burn the conifer, I get it.’ She threw her hands up in defeat. Slowly, she faced him again. ‘Seriously, you’re no fun, Doctor. At least go back to bed with me,’ she said more softly.

‘I have to finish this first,’ he lifted the knot in his hand. ‘It won’t untangle itself,’ he muttered, his mind occupied with it once more.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ she raised her voice. Abruptly, she tore it from his busy hands. ‘You’re too stupid to ever untangle it. You could try turning it on, maybe, then you could tell the colours apart. But no, the Doctor is an idiot.’ She clicked the button at the end of the light chains, took the blue one in hands, and got to work. ‘How did these get tangled in the first place?’

‘How would I know?’ he shrugged. She could feel him staring at her slender fingers wrapped in lights, extracting one chain from another deftly and more elegantly than he could ever do it.

She smirked. ‘How about you ask the guy in red jumper who put them together in one box?’

‘Shut up.’ There was a hint of a smile. She didn’t have to look at him to know.

‘If you won’t let me burn the conifer, at least bring me the pizza. I’m craving some salami and jalapeno.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he mocked, and added a question, ‘Do you want some gingerbread, too?’

This time, she looked up. The blue chain was almost free of the deathly grip of its green enemy. ‘Did you bake it or buy it?’

‘Is that a trick question?’ Confusion coloured his expression again.

‘Yes. Which is it?’ she was getting slightly impatient.

He contemplated the answer for a while. ‘Neither. I was a gift from an... old friend.’ He didn’t say who. Didn’t have to. There were few people he was still in contact with.

‘Might as well risk it then.’ The light chain clattered on the floor, between their feet. The green one was still tangled in itself. ‘Well, go on! I ain’t waiting all day.’ As he was walking away, she called after him, ‘And get rid of the orange tinsel, for the sake of the universe. Replace it with the lights.’

 

 


End file.
